


By the Way, Love the Coat

by RudexAndxNotxGinger



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudexAndxNotxGinger/pseuds/RudexAndxNotxGinger
Summary: Jack would never forget Ianto.That fact ends up being what brings him back.Love, angst, and of course sex.Enjoy.





	1. The Pterodactyl, The Cyberwoman, and The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is a love story. Canon-compliant and includes bits from Torchwood Broken, the audio story. Future "Fix-It" Fic, since we all know that if Torchwood comes back, they will HAVE to find a way to bring Ianto back. I mean REALLY.

“By the way… Love the coat.”

 

Ianto Jones was not joking when he said he loved Jack’s coat. He really, freaking loved it. Of course, the coat lost most of its magical and erotic qualities when Jack wasn’t wearing it; so what he really loved was Jack _in_ the coat.

And what no one but Jack knew, is that those six words made him decide that he needed to have Ianto; in Torchwood as part of the team, but also as his next conquest.

The cool, demur demeanor of that uptight Welsh boy was just the first layer of many; the many layers Jack would just love to peel away, not unlike the many pieces of clothing Ianto wore.

It was not long after Jack accepted Ianto to the Torchwood team that their little dance began. Ianto would give Jack those looks; looks that urged words from Jack’s mouth, which in turn made Ianto reply, reservedly, and yet still on the edge of flirtatious. Jack would then get them alone, in a corner, and they would not-talk-about-it for a full thirty seconds before one of them were called away or Ianto made up an excuse to break eye contact and leave.

Jack enjoyed their little dance, but he would have even more fun ending it.

 

 

 

Lisa happened.

The whole Cyberwoman incident was a horror, and a shock to them all. Jack knew that Ianto was not okay. They’d shared a kiss, but Ianto was hardly in a position to enjoy it, or savor it. But somewhere in his panic-blown mind he knew that Jack was conveying his deep care and concern.

And Jack did care; more than he wanted to admit. He cared for Ianto more than anyone else on the team. And they hadn’t even slept together yet…

 

Three weeks later, the immortal noticed Ianto’s pain come to a peak; his emotional turmoil over losing Lisa in the most garish and horrifying way imaginable was crushing his spirit. He no longer gave Jack those flirtatious looks, or innuendo. He stayed to himself, uptight and alone.

Jack wanted so badly to make it better. He wished he could just kiss Ianto and make his sadness and guilt and shame melt away like ice under a scorching sun.

But Ianto wasn't about to let Jack so close. He was three seconds away from ending his own life. He didn't. He was too frightened of the nothingness that would surely meet him; the uncertainty of consciousness, or existence after death was too much to comprehend; too much to willingly enter into.

Instead Ianto called his friend Mandy, the bar maid who seemed to care so much for him, even though he had been nothing but a withering, whining whelp.

Then Mandy turned out to be an employee to an alien slave trader. There was that….

What a very Torchwood way to end a friendship, no?

 

 

“I’ve… I’ve been in _so much_ pain… _Everything_ hurts.” Ianto confessed aloud for the first time.

“I know, I know…. And I would do anything in the world to take that pain away.” Jack replied sincerely.

“Kiss me…”

“What?”

“ **Kiss me**.”


	2. Entanglement

Sex happened.

Jack will never forget that first real kiss; the kiss that Ianto initiated while they were still in the SUV. The kiss turned into talking about going home together; something Jack would normally love to do, but he was concerned about Ianto’s emotional condition.

They had just stopped an alien threat, visited a hellish slave planet and returned only within the last hour.

Now Jack was normally all for rash decisions made under the influence of adrenaline rushes, but he certainly didn’t want to make his tumultuous relationship with Ianto worse with a nightmarish “morning after” incident.

Jack asked “are you sure?” about ten times that night. As they made out, as they drove to Ianto’s place, as they stumbled into the flat, shedding clothes as they kept attacking each other’s mouths as if each were starving for the other’s taste and touch.

Ianto only replied with more kissing, until they were both naked, and the final “ _Are you sure_ ” was met with a long, drawn out “Yeeessssss” as he slid his achingly hard cock against Jack’s.

 

Jack was a switch. He bottomed that night. He had no regrets.

Ianto was a good lover. Considerate, gentle, but firm when need be and definitely good at making sure his partner enjoyed it as much as he did.

And boy did Jack ever enjoy it.

It’s always the quiet ones in the suits.

 

He knew he shouldn’t, but Jack fell in love with Ianto that night. The one night that was supposed to be _just_ the one night.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

 

They had three more “just-this-once” times before they dropped the pretense of casual all together. There was that one time with the stopwatch, and then there was a vial they found containing a tiny remnant of alien sex pheromones, and then there was a whole day at the office where Jack couldn’t stop staring at Ianto’s crotch. It turned into hand jobs in the Archives Room.

And as Jack righted his clothes and re-buttoned his trousers, not really caring that there was a small streak of cum on the front; he knew that he and Ianto were getting in over their heads. This was more than either of them bargained for. And neither of them cared.

They kissed, Ianto obviously relaxed and sated as he leaned into his lover’s body, totally trusting and open.

Jack said nothing, but he didn’t need to say anything. Ianto knew; they were in a relationship. This, what they had been doing together, had formed into an inevitably intimate bond that ran deeper than just fulfilling sexual urges to distract from emotional pain.

Ianto loved Jack. Jack loved Ianto. Regardless of their job and its inherent dangers, it scared them both senseless.

They never talked about it. They were good at that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future chapters will get longer, these are basically setting the stage for how Jack will get Ianto back after the events of Children of Earth.


	3. Things That Were and Never Were

Jack didn’t want to leave Ianto. It was the only thing pulling at his heart and mind as he ran after the TARDIS; ran to catch up with The Doctor. But he wasn’t just doing it for himself; he was doing it for Ianto.

He wanted The Doctor to fix him; to put an end to his curse so he could grow old with Ianto, or die with him young, as all Torchwood members do.

He was tired of out-living everyone; he didn’t want to out-live Ianto. The idea of life without him didn’t seem like much of a life at all.        

 

Catching up with The Doctor could not have been more poorly timed. Leave it to Jack to show up right as Armageddon comes ‘round. But he was thankful that time reset; everything that happened with the Toclafane, and the enslavement of the human race; it was awfully good that only a small handful of people on the planet would remember it. That fact was a relief; and it was also a burden. Trauma is so lonely. But it was a lonely life Jack led; he was used to it. He just couldn't wait to get back to Ianto and the rest of the team; but mostly Ianto.

 

He tried to forget the year that never was; the year of complete alien invasion, and the torture endured on the Valiant, with The Master, and all the horrible, horrific, and inhuman things done to him and The Doctor while they were held captive.

 

 

“I came back for _you_ ….”

 

The moment he was back in Ianto’s embrace; awkward and tentative as it was, Jack felt hopeful that he could put it all behind him; that he could just lose himself in Ianto and just forget.

 

But Ianto was not about to forget.

 

It took so much convincing; a task Jack was more than happy to bestow upon Ianto over and over; the attempts to convince Ianto that he was never going to leave again. The promises were made with kisses, and caresses, languid love making in Ianto’s bed, in the hub, on a desk. Long cuddles at night with nothing but whispers of “I’m right here. I’m not leaving…”

 

It’s not that Ianto was weak, or insecure. Jack’s leaving broke his heart; it broke both of their hearts and this was Jack’s only way to pick up the pieces and glue them back together as one; one heart.

Ianto needed to heal; Jack was more than willing to help.

 

 

 

“You do get lonely…”

That time in Jack’s office was one of the first times Ianto initiated the kiss. It was deep, meaningful; loving. It led to sex, of course, but it was more than just sex, and even more than just making love.

Ianto was officially making himself a part of Jack’s life; a part of his many lives and lifetimes. That moment in time; that little blip in the universe marked the start of an epic journey through all of space and time; all of forever. Ianto wordlessly committed himself to Jack; no matter what it took, and no matter what Jack had done in the past, he knew that he would always love the man; the immortal who stole his heart.

 

 

 

 

“He cheats. He _always_ cheats.” Ianto grinned in his own adorable way as he continued to reassemble his outfit sloppily.

Jack smiled upon being outed as a cheater in naked hide-and-seek. He would accept that label, thank you. In fact it was somewhat a bragging point, since he got to the fun part faster. Once he’d found Ianto’s hiding spot using the hub’s many CCTV cameras, he would pounce on Ianto and get right to the _really_ fun bit; the making out and the jerking each other off.

Gwen Cooper happened to walk in on that part. But oh well… There was always next time.

 

 

 There wasn’t a next time.

The chilling words “ _We are coming_ ” took the world by storm, stopping every little thing in its tracks and there was no fun to be had after that.

Torchwood was terrified. Jack was terrified. More than being terrified of the sacrifice Earth would have to make, Jack was terrified of what Ianto would say about what he did, in the past. He knew it was wrong of him to value Ianto over the thousands, if not millions of children the Four-Five-Six would demand. He knew it was wrong for him to keep it from Ianto until it was nearly too late.

 

 Jack told the team about what had happened all those years ago; in 1965 when he surrendered twelve children in exchange for the sparing of twenty-five million. The look in the Welshman's eyes when he told them... it broke Jack’s heart.

But later, that night when they slept fitfully in that warehouse, awaiting their impending meeting with the Four-Five-Six, Ianto unexpectedly hugged Jack close. He was obviously crying; Jack felt tears drip onto the side of his face while Ianto embraced him tightly from behind.

“I forgive you…” He whispered ever-so-quietly. “I understand.”

Jack rolled around onto his other side, so he could face the beautiful, loving Ianto. He wrapped the big blanket around them before kissing the young man softly.

A soft whisper of, “I don’t deserve you, Ianto Jones,” escaped Jack’s lips.

And he could have never meant it more in his entire life than he did right then.


	4. Of Ghosts and Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Included is a bit from "The House of the Dead" a TW Audio drama. An utterly beautiful piece.

Jack would have traded it all. He really would have. If he could have taken it all back; rewound time to before the aliens called his bluff and released the virus, he would have given the children over losing Ianto. It added to his self-loathing, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t want Ianto to die.

 

 

“It was good, yeah?” Ianto’s voice was leaving him; the overwhelming sadness of it all ending wracked his voice like an earthquake.

 

Jack pleaded with him to stay, as if somehow he could just keep Ianto with him by coaxing and begging. But the light was gone from his eyes; soon Jack was gone too.

 

Except Jack got to come back, and Ianto did not.

Cue the emotional shutdown.

 

 

Jack found it impossible to move on. In some ways, he just had to. He still ate, drank, and slept every once in a while. He felt numb. Everything in his life felt empty.

Even with the world saved and the Four-Five-Six gone, Jack felt no joy or happiness. He felt guilty. Ashamed. Alone.

 

 

He hit a place worse than rock bottom. For a while all he could do was drown himself in stimulation: meaningless sex, drinking, some drugs, many fist fights. He found himself both reviving from death and awaking from slumber with foreign objects or body parts impaling his body, more times than he cared to count. And through it all; all of the planets and galaxies he could travel to, Jack could not outrun his grief. No number of pretty boys in his bed could make Ianto any less fantastic in his memory; any less _gone_.

 

 

Then there was a night; _one_ night where Jack got to say goodbye, a little more properly than the last. There was a house; a house attached to the rift. And there were ghosts, souls that were left floating through the void, probably. It broke Jack’s heart to think that Ianto’s consciousness was going to simply exist inside a vast nothingness for all of eternity.

And Ianto saved the day in the end; Ianto’s ghost, who was every bit just as much the uptight and proper Welshman he always was.

 

“Don’t do this!”

**“** Sorry, Jack. Someone’s got to destroy the rift. Quite a way to go.”

**“** No! Not like this! Don’t leave me like this!”

**“** I’ve got to go!”

**“** Ianto, no! ...I never said it properly before.”

“It doesn’t need saying.”

“Yes, it does. Ianto Jones, _I love you_.”

 

 

Jack had never spoken to a real ghost until that night. He had never thought he ever would. And it was so real. So tangible. He wished he’d kissed Ianto; hugged him; done _something_ other than just stand there! But he didn’t. And then he was gone. Again.

 

 

After that, after all that heart ache and pain, Jack was done trying to pretend he was okay. He was done trying to stop feeling. He was just… _done_.

He lived by meager means, to put it mildly. He afforded himself no luxury, living like a tramp in abandoned buildings, drinking poorly made coffee and pining for Ianto with every cringing sip.

Jack wore self-loathing well. He wallowed in it for almost two years.

Then the world came knocking again.


	5. Forgotten Artifacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds something that he has literally forgotten. And he can't figure out why.

Jack felt human for the first time in years, when he was finally mortal, temporary as it was. The sudden possibility of death reminded him of his previous verve for life.

Narrowly escaping death by arsenic poisoning was enough to make anyone grateful just to be alive.

In true mortal, human tradition, he bagged the first piece of tail he could get. It turned out to be not all that bad, really. Ben – or Bret – or whatever his name was, could have been worse. It was a good four hours of being mortal; the last good hours he would feel in a while.

 

Rex Matheson joined Club Immortal; a very interesting turn of events. Jack tried to hit that, too, but it didn’t work very well. It turned out that Rex was boringly straight. Men like that were few and far between when it came to Jack’s charm, but Matheson would not be moved.

 

 

Once Jack returned to good old Cardiff, Wales, he stayed his distance while Gwen reestablished a new Torchwood Three. He looked forward to seeing how a woman’s touch would affect the décor.       

 

Well at least there wasn’t any pink.

Jack was pleased with the way things turned out, despite the lack of a pet pterodactyl with an affinity for barbecue sauce.

He had his own office again, which was nice, and Gwen made sure to add some extra privacy, just in case Jack decided to have fun with someone at the office and did not want to be seen or overheard.

She had a good memory.

 

Back when the hub exploded, the recovery and collection of remaining artifacts took place rather promptly. Many things were saved, but all of it was completely unorganized.

 

Now that Torchwood three was back in business, Jack showed up just in time to dig through vats and piles of things gathered from the rubble all those years ago. Weapons, clothing, art, a hair dryer, something that Jack could only guess was an alien dildo….

Lots of things to go through. Some was his, some was Tosh’s. Some was Owens. Some was Gwen’s, and some was Ianto’s.

God, he really missed Ianto.

 

As Jack was rummaging and wading through everything, he found a box. It was a wooden box, not very large.  He remembered holding it before, and not really remembering when or why.

It intrigued him, this little box; just big enough to sit in the palms of his hands. It was a little bit ornate, but not too flashy. It felt like there was something in it.

Then he remembered. The sand. He’d discovered sand in that box so many years ago, and couldn’t figure out why at the time. He still couldn’t figure it out now.

Jack dashed to his office, lunging over boxes and objects on his way there. His new desk was the cleanest it would ever be; completely clear of clutter. Jack set the box on the desk and slowly slid the lid open, almost as if he was afraid something would pop out.

Nothing did. It was just a bunch of sand. Jack shrugged, attempting to shake the niggling in the back of his mind that told him there was something important about it; that there was a specific reason he couldn’t remember anything about the box; why he had it, or why it was in his office all those years ago.

And what was with the sand?

Jack did some detective work. Tosh and Owen weren’t the only smart people to ever work for Torchwood. Jack knew a thing or two. He looked at the sand under a microscope; a very science-ey thing to do. Just for a fleeting second he thought he saw the grains of sand move, but then he realized he was just breathing on the glass slide. He chided himself for not paying more attention when Owen prattled on about how to determine if something is from earth or not.

He really wished he had a machine, much like a microwave, that he could pop an object inside, press a button, and it would light up green for 'E.T.', and red for 'not E.T.' And furthermore, it needed a little screen with all the info you needed about whatever object you put in there. Then he could finally know if that weird thing he found in a box downstairs was truly an alien sex toy.

Jack was still staring at the sand in the microscope, remembering not to breathe too heavily and wordlessly daring the sand to move, when he heard Gwen enter the lab, which looked much more like an ordinary lab now, and less like an operating theatre.

“You want coffee?” Gwen asked casually, without thinking. But the look on Jack’s face when he moved away from the microscope changed Gwen’s tone.

“Oh… Sorry…” She said in a low voice.

“Yeah… It’s okay.” Jack tried not to sound as nostalgic as he felt.

“I miss him too. I mean, probably not as much as you, since I know you and him were-”

“It’s okay.” Jack interrupted, sparing Gwen the trouble of blithering on, and sparing himself the heartache of remembering Ianto.

“Coffee would be great.”


	6. That Box

That box still bothered Jack. For weeks it sat on his desk, the lid slightly open and the contents all but taunting him, whispering to him.

_“Remember… remember… remember…”_

 

The coat. Jack always wore the coat when he went out. He’d been in his shirt and braces all day, still trying to organize things at the hub the way he thought Ianto would. It caused him to think of his late lover constantly; the coffee, the organizing, the recording and documenting… it was all so much work and it reminded him just how underappreciated Ianto was.

Back to the coat. The Torchwood leader was just about to leave to get a drink at the local, when he caught a whiff of something as he approached the tall rack where his coat hung.

It smelled like Ianto: Coffee, soap, mint, and something just uniquely Ianto. But it couldn’t be, right? Ianto had been gone for eight years. That coat had been soiled, rained on, and wrung through and through for nearly a decade since Ianto so much as _touched_ it. Jack wore it every day for the last eight years. How the hell did he smell Ianto?

Jack neared the coat rack and leaned in, almost cautiously, breathing in a deep lungful, trying to catch the scent again. It evaded him, like a pleasant aroma drafting in from far away. There, then gone.

Jack grabbed the coat from the rack, and pulled the rough material to his face, breathing in again and again, trying to find what it was he smelled.

He found it. Or at least, he thought he did, for another moment. He was sniffing the front lapel, a place that Ianto occasionally rubbed his cheek against when they were having a particularly long, cuddly hug.

It made sense that the smell might stay, even for eight years. But Jack couldn’t smell it again. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t smell it again.

Jack cried. He cried real tears that dropped onto the coat, creating wet patches. The heaviness of the coat increased, and it eventually dropped to the floor.

The smell arose again, seemingly from the coat: coffee; soap; mint; …Ianto.

Jack let the tears fall, and the memories flood back to him like an unstoppable tsunami.

Ianto’s kisses. His posh Welsh flirting. His absolutely brilliant sense of humor. His creativity _in bed_. His talented coffee making.

Ianto.

Ianto.

“Ianto.”

Jack didn’t even realize he said it aloud. The tears were gone now, and he was nothing but a panting mess. There he was, just standing in his office, completely alone, his coat on the floor.

Suddenly, there was a feeling. That box; that infernal, torturously familiar box was calling to him again.

“ _Remember… Remember… Remember…”_

And it made him angry. He was angry that he couldn’t remember what the box was for, or from.

In a sudden fit of frustration, Jack hit the box across the room. He hit it off of his desk with such force, that much of the sandy contents ended up airborne, creating an un-breathable mist of dusty fog for a full three seconds.

Once the dust settled, Jack was frozen on his feet. He looked at the floor, completely stunned; clueless, agape, dumbstruck, flummoxed; all of the completely confused adjectives in the dictionary.

 

There on the floor, written in sand, were the words: “ ** _Remember me?_** ”

 

Even for Jack, _this_ was new.


	7. Mr. Sandman

The Captain stood and stared at the sand for a good long while. Nothing moved. There were no sounds, no wind coming from nowhere, and no movement; just a pile of sand that spelled those two haunting words.

Remember me?

“Ianto?” Jack knew he was being foolish, hoping and thinking it might be Ianto somehow communicating with him. There was just no way… right? Ianto was dead; really, actually _dead_. His body was in a Torchwood freezer for God’s sake.

Jack couldn’t think about this right now. His head hurt from all the crying and he was dead tired. He rarely needed sleep, and when he did sleep it wasn’t for long. But he suddenly felt very, very exhausted and thought it would be nice to lie down for a while.

Jack quickly swept up the sand, making sure to put all of it back into the mysterious box.

The mysterious sand in the mysterious box.

Then he went to a little hovel down below his office and lay down on the small cot with a comfy mattress. He didn’t bother turning any lights off, or taking off any additional clothes.  He just needed to sleep….

 

 

 

“Jack?” Ianto’s voice drifted into Jack’s consciousness.

“It’s too early…”

“You never sleep.”

“I know. But I _like_ sleeping when I know you’re next to me.” Jack opened his eyes, and sat up a little, looking into the eyes of his lover and smiling. Ianto gave a small smile too.

They were in Ianto’s flat, in the bedroom, on the bed.

Everything was white; white bed sheets, white walls, white curtains, and a bright, celestial white light shone through the windows.

This was obviously heaven, Jack thought to himself. He remembered falling asleep at the hub. So this must be a dream? But if this was a dream, Jack decided that he never wanted to wake. 

“Last night was good…” Ianto broke the silence in his usual, slightly-awkward Welshman way.

“Yes. Last night was very good.” The smile stayed. Jack realized that this was a memory. This had happened before, with him and Ianto. Words left his mouth like an automated script; he had no control over what he said. It was like the memory was playing out on its own and he was just along for the ride.  

“I was wondering if you wanted coffee, before… you know… before we had some more _fun_.”

“I would never say no to your amazing coffee Ianto, you know that.  But when you’re giving me the choice of coffee or sex?”

“Which first?”

“Both.”

Jack and Ianto had some fun while intermittently sipping coffee.

Ianto finished his coffee first, and proceeded to pleasure Jack while he finished his.

“God… Ianto… Feels good.”

Ianto released Jack from his mouth just long enough to say, “Well when you’re finished with your coffee, it’s your turn.”

“Pretty sure I’m never going to be done drinking this.” Jack answered coyly as he took a purposefully loud, yet miniscule sip from his cup.

Later, they were both clinging to each other like lives depended on it. Sweaty and high on caffeine, Jack and Ianto made love, kissing and caressing and goading each other on with sweet moans of absolute pleasure.

Jack was lost. Lost in the feelings and the mix of emotions. He knew this wasn’t real. He knew this was only a memory; a dream. But Gods, did it ever feel good.

He knew this was not healthy for him to indulge like this; to play with his own heart in this way. This dream would undoubtedly set his emotional recovery back nearly a decade. He didn’t care.

But as he thrust in and out of Ianto, alternating between kissing him and whispering of just how good it felt, Jack suddenly felt an ominous presence in the room.

He didn’t want to, but he turned his head to the right, and that’s when he saw him.

A man. A painfully familiar man stood in the room with them. He too, like the rest of the room, was dressed in all white. He didn’t say anything. He was just… watching.

Jack knew that this mysterious man was not part of the memory, but he may have been part of the dream.

Regardless, he kept making love to Ianto, pressing him into the mattress and eliciting pleasured noises from his kiss-bruised lips.

Jack knew that he should try to wake up, or at least try to get his own body to betray the memory playback in order to address the man staring at them; the man Ianto seemed to take no notice of.

 It all ended too soon. Ianto came all over himself, and Jack inside him. It felt amazing.

Jack eventually looked to his right again; to that evil, ominous place next to the bed that seemed to emit worse and worse vibes the longer he ignored it.

The man was still standing there, almost emotionless and indifferent. He had a small smirk on his face, but it looked permanent; like that man was _always_ smirking.

 

“Who are you?” Jack finally was able to speak on his own volition.

“You don’t remember me, Jack?” The man’s English accent scratched annoyingly on Jack’s brain. It was so familiar. And yet it _wasn’t_ familiar.

“If I remembered you, why would I ask who you are?”

Ianto was long gone by now. Now it was just this man and Jack in the room. The bed was gone too. Jack was somehow dressed now. Even in his coat.

The two of them stood almost nose to nose in the pristine white room. The shorter man, the mysterious, unnamed one, still had a smirk that just about made Jack punch the guy.

The concoction of aggravated and annoyed feelings the man brought out of Jack were even more familiar than the man’s face.

“I know you… but from where? When?”

The man ignored Jack’s questions. “Your memories of him are strong.” He nodded his head in the direction where the bed used to be, and suddenly the bed was there again. A naked Ianto sat amongst the pure white tangled sheets, giving Jack a predatory gaze. He seemed completely oblivious to the conversation going on between Jack and the familiar stranger.

“He was much more than just a shag, wasn’t he, Jack?” The man’s arrogant and smug voice grated on Jack’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. “You know, when I first met you two… I figured _he_ was the one infatuated with _you_. And he _was_ , but you had it real bad too, didn’t you? You still do.”

“What do you want?” Jack was well on his way to feeling distressed and impatient.

 

“Just to _exist_ , Jack. That’s all I want. And you’re going to help me do just that.”


	8. Memories and Prayers

Jack awoke with a start; he was in his bed, in the hub. Everything appeared to be normal. He couldn’t tell what time it was, so he scrounged around the room looking for his Vortex Manipulator wrist strap.

He eventually found it hiding under the cot. He looked at the screen with utter disbelief, because according to the time displayed on the tiny, complex screen, he had slept for twelve hours. He didn’t think he had ever slept that much when he was mortal, let alone when he was immortal and didn’t even need sleep.

But he felt better; rejuvenated, and less groggy.

Then he remembered the dream. And that man. Who was he? He had something to do with the box. And for some reason remembering him was awfully important to the mysterious man; like it was imperative that Jack remember him. Why couldn’t he?

Retcon. It had to be. Jack remembered waking up from a Retcon-induced slumber that one time; the day everyone on the team realized they lost two whole days. The CCTV video footage was missing too. It was like everyone in Torchwood all agreed to forget those two days; forget about that man perhaps?

Jack thought the man was annoying, but he didn’t think he was _that_ annoying. There must have been something about memory; something that this man needed or wanted, and Torchwood didn’t want him to have it.

Jack’s train of thought came to a complete halt when an aroma wafted into his little closet-like bedroom under his office.

 Coffee. He distinctly smelled coffee. And not just any kind of coffee; the kind that Ianto used to make: dark, strong, not too bitter, and just perfect. Jack had long since learned the difference in smells; and he hadn’t smelled this one particular coffee aroma for eight years.

Gwen was gone on a family vacation to Scotland; there was no way she was the one messing with the coffee machine.

Jack instinctively grabbed a gun before he headed towards the hub’s main room. Searching left and right, high and low, Jack couldn’t hear or see anyone. Just to be sure he checked all the security systems and cameras. The aroma was still in the air; it didn’t elude him like the last time he smelled something nostalgically connected with his late lover.

He was all alone. In the hub. Smelling _coffee_.

Jack sat down in a chair, and his eyes closed while he thought of Ianto, and his coffee, and all the wonderful and brilliant things they did together.

And it wasn’t just the sex. Jack and Ianto made a good team for Torchwood. Much never needed to be said; Ianto was practically telepathic; he often knew what Jack was thinking, and when needed he acted without asking. And when it _wasn’t_ needed, he asked for permission in such a cheeky manner, making it clear he already knew the answer.

Jack always had a thing for the cheeky ones.

“ _Your memories of him are strong…_ ” Jack heard that man’s voice in his head as clearly as if he were standing right there in the room. But he wasn’t. Jack opened his eyes just to be sure. He closed them again, continuing to envision Ianto. He could still see him as vividly as if it was just yesterday that they were together.

 

“Ianto.” Jack felt his eyes filling with tears again and he tried in vain to blink them away. He didn’t think he had ever felt so overwhelmed by memories. Memories that popped into his head seemingly against his will; they played back like a movie in his mind’s eye, each and every one making him feel guilty; sad, and utterly alone.

 

_"Need me to do any attacking, sir?"_

 

_"I'm ... not giving up on her. I love her. Can you understand that, Jack? Haven't you ever loved anyone?"_

 

_"If you're interested ... I've still got that stopwatch."_

 

_"Are you asking me out on a date?"_

 

_"In his own time.... Would you go back to yours? If you could?"_

 

_"I could come with you. It's been a while since we went hunting together."_

 

_"That's what I love about Torchwood. By day you're chasing the scum of the universe. Come midnight, you're the Wedding Fairy."_

 

_"We thought we´d lost you.."_

 

_"He thought we were together. Like a couple. He said, 'You two'. The way he said it, huh. 'You two'."_

 

_"Would now be a good time to tell you I lost the car?"_

 

_"So... one day, you'll see me die of old age. And just keep going..?"_

 

_"A thousand years time, you won't remember me."_

 

Jack knew that this trip down memory lane had something to do with the man in his head. It was like the he was showing him these past moments; trying to tell him something.

“What do I do?” Jack asked aloud. He wasn’t really sure who or what he was speaking to; perhaps the man in his head; perhaps just himself.

Everything was just so confusing and he was just about to give up trying to understand it, when he finally broke down, and tried the very last thing he could do. He did something he told himself he would never do.

“I need you.” Jack said to Ianto now. For the first time since his death, Jack spoke _to_ Ianto. Wherever he was, whether just existing in a body bag in the freezer or alive and well in his memories, Jack was more-or-less praying; sending a spiritual message into all of time and space.

Speaking to the dead.

“Ianto I need you here; with me. I know I'm selfish, but I would give _anything_ to get you back.”

There was nothing. No feelings, no premonitions, no spine-tingling or voices in his head. Nothing. Jack sniffed, and the last of his tears were drying against his face. He didn’t know what he should have expected from a prayer like that; no one was listening. Ianto was gone; there was no connection from the living to the dead. There was no way to bring his lover back to him.

 

“Jack?”

 

A voice cut through the air like an unexpected firecracker going off during a perfectly quiet night.

Jack fully snapped out of his emotional trance and launched out of the chair, reaching for his gun.

He heard footsteps. Jack whirled around a corner, gun in hand, and prepared for anything, when he suddenly came face to face with the intruder.

Turns out, he wasn’t really prepared for _everything_.

 

 


	9. Reality Check

Jack froze. He didn’t think he’d ever frozen so still, so completely and so involuntarily in all of his very long life.

There, not eight feet from him, looking very much alive and the picture of health, was none other than-

“Ianto.” Jack still couldn’t move. He was cautious, and flabbergasted, and yet unequivocally _relieved_.

Ianto looked a little cautious himself; but not for the same reason. He looked confused by the expression on Jack’s face; he looked as if he’d seen….

A ghost.

“Jack? Are you alright?”

Jack finally willed himself to move. He didn’t care if this was some trick; some hallucination; a dream; a ghost. Whatever this was, Jack was not going to waste any time. Not again.

He took three long strides and immediately closed the space that kept him and Ianto apart. In a split second he took it all in; his scent; his looks; his posture. This was really Ianto.

 Jack wrapped his arms around the man, almost violently, and clung to him like he just might turn to water and become a puddle on the floor.

“Jack…” Ianto sounded a little strained, due to the tightness of Jack’s hug. “What are you-”

Jack didn’t give him time to finish. His lips collided with Ianto’s, pulling him into an intimate, loving kiss. His fingers carded through that perfect dark hair just the way it always did, and he felt his perfect Welshman softening and melting under his touch. It was all just as he remembered.

Jack was just about to completely lose himself in the moment; lose all semblance of logical thinking, when suddenly he heard a different voice, coming from behind him.

“Well you two certainly didn’t waste any time…”

Jack pulled away from Ianto, but kept his hands on him, sacred to let him go even for a second.

He turned is head to see that man; the man from his dream.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“I _brought_ you here.” The man put his hands in the air in a supplicant gesture. “You’re still _dreaming_ , Jack.”

“Wha-?” Jack looked back to Ianto, who was still there, looking as kiss-stunned as ever, seemingly oblivious to the strange man in the room and Jack’s conversation with him.

“Seems so real, doesn’t it?” The villainous man taunted. “The scents you’ve been smelling; the touch and feel of him in your hands right now. It feels real. I can make it real.”

“How?”

“Just say my name.”

“I don’t know you’re name.”

“You do. It’s in your memory somewhere. Drowned out by _Retcon_.” He said the name of the chemical as if it were a dirty curse word.

“Why don’t you just tell me your name, so I can say it?”

“I can’t. You have to _actually_ remember me. On your own.”

“So… if I remember you, you’ll exist? ...And Ianto?”

“He will exist too.”

“What’s the catch?”

“As if I’d tell _you_...” The man said nothing more, simply reached out and touched Ianto on the shoulder.

To Jack’s complete and utter horror, Ianto not only disappeared, but he turned to sand, leaving nothing but a big pile of it on the floor.

The look Jack gave that awful, snarky, smug bastard was nothing short of murderous.

“He’ll come back.” The villain promised. “You’ve just got to remember me. Oh and… Once you’ve figured out the plot, don’t try giving yourself Retcon to forget this all of this. Because, if you do, you will lose _everything_ you ever knew about your precious Ianto Jones.”

“What?”

“That little trip we did, down memory lane? Well that was me, and if you look closely, I am in those memories now too; lurking in the background. If you try to forget this dream, you will lose Ianto. Forever.”

Jack didn’t have time to respond. He felt himself slipping away from the current reality. He experienced the odd feeling of losing all control of his body while his consciousness slipped into another; his body in the real world, where he was still sleeping on the cot in his office. Talk about déjà vu.  

Jack opened his eye reluctantly, still unsure if this was still a dream. He had a gut feeling that this mysterious man was known for antics and schemes like this… now it was no wonder the entire Torchwood team Retconned themselves.

 

Jack immediately set to work, looking through every piece of security footage before and after the memory wipe. He was grateful that much of the Torchwood security feeds were backed-up onto multiple different hard drives, and even after the destruction of the original headquarters they were able to recover almost everything from the stored servers.

“Come on… You’ve got to be on here somewhere, you bastard…” Jack mumbled as he skimmed through hours of video. After he exhausted all of his resources on the hub security, Jack checked the Torchwood team’s home security tapes for those same two days.

That’s when he found it.

Tosh’s apartment had a security camera in her front corridor. And on it, was her, and that man. They looked intimate, which Jack found surprising, but he kept watching the tape, grateful that the camera’s microphone was sound activated and recorded every word.

“ _Do you want a drink? Are you hungry at all?_ ” Tosh set her handbag on a little table as she wriggled out of her jacket.

“ _No, I’m fine, thanks._ ” The man moved in close to Tosh’s personal space, and she seemed to not mind.

“ _You know, Adam, you and I should go out sometime for a movie, or something. We never go out._ ”

“ _You’re right, we should._ ”

Jack stopped listening after the mention of the name: Adam. So that’s what the bastards name was. It sounded familiar. But only adding to the puzzle was Toshiko’s comfortable and outgoing posture while that Adam person practically felt her up in the corridor of her apartment. Clearly, according to the amnesia timeframe, they would have only known each other for a _day_. But it sure seemed like they were awfully comfortable with one another. It was almost as if the man had….

Manipulated memories.

That was it. Jack remembered now. Adam was a memory-based entity who could manipulate memories, and even personalities. He couldn’t recall much other than some facts; it was like reading a history book rather than living through the experience. But Jack did remember. And that, apparently was going to be all it took to bring Ianto back.

There was just one problem: it would also bring back Adam.

And getting rid of Adam would also mean getting rid of Ianto.

 

Damn, being in Torchwood was rough.


	10. A Scene Right Out of That Dream Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right when Jack thinks he's back to reality....

 

“Adam.”

 

Jack thought a good long while before giving in. Not only had he thought a long while, he also prepared. He was armed with a pistol and two full clips, and he had a large dose of Retcon in his pocket just in case it really came to that. He hoped with all of his being that it never came to that. In another pocket was that weird force-field device they’d used to trap a sex-gas alien once.

He also made a video for himself and Gwen, just in case he did end up waking up from a Retcon coma later with no idea where the last twenty-four hours went.

The video was difficult to make, since he had to assume that if he ever needed it, he wouldn’t remember Ianto anymore. The video, consisting of him simply sitting in front of a webcam and giving instructions to his possible future self, also included stories of the best times he and Ianto had together. He never wanted those memories to die, even if they merely existed as stories, never to be remembered as his own memories.

 

And now Jack felt a little silly, speaking to an empty room. According to Adam, all he needed was to remember, and to say his name. So he said it again, just to be sure.

“Adam…. Ianto… Anybody…?”

There was nothing. Jack felt foolish.

 

“You know….” A painfully familiar voice came from behind Jack, and he instantly whirled around to see Adam, the smug bastard who had strung him along like a fish on a line.

“For being so corporeally _ordinary_ , you really do have an amazing mind, Jack. It’s been fun traipsing around in here.”

“Here?” Jack’s stomach tied into a knot. Would this vicious cycle of waking up never end? Would he ever know what was really real?

“Yes, here. I found it hard to believe myself.” Adam sounded a little impressed. That smug smile was still permanently stretched across his face. “I tried to let you wake in the real world, but your subconscious isn’t letting you. You don’t want to have to Retcon yourself and lose the memory of Ianto. So you’re living out this virtual reality; dreams within dreams, hoping you can live with Ianto forever just inside your pretty little head.”

“And can I?”

“No. Eventually someone will find you lying passed out somewhere, in the _real world_ , and they will wake you. Then you will have to make your choice, Jack. Either take the Retcon to forget _everything_ , or… let Ianto live.”

“But then _you_ will live too; in the real world.”

“Yes.”

“And that is what you want.”

Jack realized just then that he and Adam were standing dangerously close. It was almost as if Adam was trying to…

He kissed him. Adam kissed Jack.

It was not sexual, nor was it romantic. It was… neutral; like an empty gesture.

When Adam pulled back, he looked bitter; a little nostalgic. “I wish I could feel, Jack. That kiss? I felt nothing. I can feel… _nothing_. I want to _exist_. Is that too much to ask?”

Jack was still a little speechless at the sudden openness and honesty of the mysterious man. But was it all an act?

“I don’t trust you.”

“Obviously. You’re Torchwood.”

“I want to talk to Ianto.”

“What? So you can say goodbye? I don’t think so. I’m not going to let you. You don’t seem to get it, Jack. I _want_ you to wake up. Now that you’ve remembered me, once you return to real life, I will get what I want. And you! You will get what you want.”

Jack nodded, realizing that he had no other choice. He obviously could not choose the option to erase all memory of Ianto. How could he even think about it? He could never…

 

 

“Jack?!” The Captain heard Gwen Cooper’s voice somewhere in his head. She wasn’t anywhere in the room; the dream room. He deduced that she must have been trying to wake him.

“Jack, are you alright?” She sounded gravely concerned. Jack wondered briefly how long he’d been out. Days? Hours? Minutes?

 

 

Jack opened his eyes. For real this time, he thinks.

“Oh, God… Jack I was worried.” Gwen was perched on her knees above Jack, who just realized he was lying on the floor in his office. He bolted upright.

Awake. Jack was finally awake. He knew it because somehow gravity seemed to be a more significant factor than in dream world. He felt heavier here.

“What day is it? What _time_ is it?”

“Monday. It’s about quarter past nine AM.”

Jack shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in contemplation. He’d only been out for twelve hours.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“It’s… It’s Ianto.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed. She looked sympathetic. “Look Jack, it’s been almost nine years…”

She must have thought Jack had been on a bender or something; or maybe just a pity party. And truthfully Jack didn’t even know where to begin. How could he explain what had just happened? The weird dream-within-a-dream trip he’d been on, and the memories of Adam…

“Gwen I don’t know how to explain it but Ianto-”

 Jack didn’t even get a chance to finish. Before he could even try to explain the very shocking return that was bound to occur, a voice called out from the Hub’s main room.

“Jack?”

Gwen was immediately alarmed, since there was no one else on the planet who had access to the Hub, and yet there was definitely an intruder present.  

She got up from the floor and rushed out of the office, Jack following closely on her tail.

The moment Gwen reached the small set of stairs overlooking the main room she stopped dead in her tracks.

 

“ ** _Ianto?!?_** ”


	11. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Ianto finally get to be together, after nearly a decade apart.

There wasn’t any time for Jack to stop Gwen from practically throttling Ianto. She ran so fast and so determinedly, Jack wouldn’t have been able to stop her with a brick wall.

Jack watched Ianto, and only Ianto, as Gwen gripped him in an impossibly tight hug. Ianto reacted with a somewhat bewildered smile, but he looked happy. It made Jack smile; something he knew he would be doing a lot.

“Oh God! It’s a miracle! It’s a bloody miracle!” Gwen loosened her grip a little to look back at Jack, who was quickly making his way towards the reunion.

“Jack.” Ianto blushed a little as he smiled; looking and acting very much like himself. It made Jack forget almost entirely about Gwen, the only thing blocking him from taking Ianto in his arms and snogging him until the end of time itself.

Gwen eventually let go of Ianto, once she realized that he and Jack were practically eye-fucking while she was standing between them.

Jack let no time pass between embraces, as the moment Gwen let go of Ianto the two of them were together, hugging, and kissing and just… Being together.

“Well, I guess I should give you two some privacy…” Gwen started to back away awkwardly. “But I do expect a full explanation about how this is even possi-…. Um… okay….later, yeah?” And with that, she left; _fast_.

Jack and Ianto didn’t hear her. They were too busy snogging.

It felt so good. This was real. Ianto was really here. Jack was really here. They were really together; for the first time in almost a decade. Ianto started to tremble under Jack’s touch; from arousal or emotion, Jack didn’t know.

He already knew that he was crying. They both were. Their tears mixed, creating a strange intimacy when Jack broke the kiss to stroke their wet cheeks together.

“Ianto… I have so much to say… I don’t know where to start.” He confessed quietly before Ianto responded with another deep kiss.

Jack nibbled and worried those beautiful lips, sucking both gently and passionately in just the right way to make Ianto whimper with pleasure.

Ianto was definitely shaking with emotion now; Jack could tell. Tears fell even more freely and Ianto had to pull away from the kiss he could breathe; his nose was clogging up quickly.

“I…” Ianto began, not really knowing how to finish. Their foreheads rested together, and Jack’s hands were gently holding each side of his lover’s face.

“I was dead…” Ianto finally said. “I died... How did you bring me back? How am I here? With you?”

“It was my love for you; my memories of you. It’s hard to explain, but you’re here now. You’re here for good. And I’ll never let you go again.”

Ianto sniffed, not even bothering to wipe the snot running down his lips. “There’s nothing, Jack. There’s absolutely nothing…”

Jack knew that Ianto was talking about the void; the nothingness that meets you after death. He didn’t know what to say, other than, “It’s okay Ianto… I’ve got you. You’re here now.”

They kissed again, briefly, and Jack kept wiping the tears away from his lover’s cheeks as they streamed from the corners of his tightly closed eyes.

“Ianto I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

“How long? How long has it been?” Ianto’s voice shook.

“Almost nine years.”

“You rebuilt the Hub.”

“We have Gwen to thank for that. She did all the hard work, though it really needs a Welshman’s touch.” Jack smiled a little smugly at that comment. Ianto returned the smile, though a little more reservedly.

“And speaking of touching…” Jack continued. “Gods, Ianto you have no idea how good it is to be with you again, like this.”

“You didn’t find anyone?”

Jack’s demeanor suddenly became very serious, and tilted his true love’s chin upwards so Ianto’s teary eyes met his drying ones.

 “Ianto Jones, there will never be anyone else. A thousand lifetimes from now, and I will still love you. I will _always_ love you.”

Jack meant every word. Even if he fell in love again sometime in the very, very distant future, he would never love anyone as uniquely as he did Ianto. There was no one like him.

“I don’t know why you bother.” Ianto said a little morosely. “But I love you too, Jack. I’ve always loved you.”

They kissed again and again, enjoying the feeling of being together. In their kisses they communicated wordlessly their love, their fears, and their lust.

“Can we…? Is it too soon?” Jack asked hesitantly when their lips parted just a hairs breadth.

Ianto chuckled. “We’ve been apart for years, Jack. It’s hardly too soon.”

“I like the way you think.” Jack placed a quick kiss to those perfect lips and then he grabbed Ianto’s hand, leading him to the exit. Where they were going, Ianto had no idea.

 

Jack found them a hotel. A nice, fancy hotel at which the front desk clerk needed no further information other than something along the lines of “Torchwood” and “the best suite you have.” Ianto was hardly paying attention; he was too aroused to think about anything other than what he and Jack were about to do.

They barely made it to the elevator before making out again; and when the elevator arrived at the top floor, it was almost ignored in favor of just making love right there. Although neither of them would have objected, there may have been eventual repercussions from fucking in such a public location. And besides, Jack wanted to make this special. They could do a quickie in an elevator some other time. Because time was something they had more of right now; and Jack was going to take it.

 

“Oh… Gods…. Ianto!” Jack writhed in the luxurious hotel bed, squirming with pleasure while Ianto worked him open with his very talented tongue.

“You’ve got to hold still, Jack. I can’t do it properly when you’re worming around like this.” Ianto pretended to chastise, secretly loving hat Jack couldn’t hold still. He was proud that he could make the great Jack Harkness be reduced to a begging, squirming mess on the mattress.

“I can’t hold still. You make me feel too good, I-” Jack’s sentence was cut short when Ianto resumed his enthusiastic licking, and all jack could do was moan loudly. The only thoughts in his head were those of pleasure and love and arousal.

“Please…” Jack didn’t know what he was begging for. It was so good and yet it was just pure torture to be stimulated in such a sensitive place.

“You want me inside you, Jack?”

“Yes!” Jack purposefully wriggled his hips now. “Oh God, yes, Ianto.”

Ianto’s eyes darkened little as he shoved two fingers inside of Jack. He was jealous; Jack recognized the look right away.

“Ah, be careful, Ianto.” Jack cautioned as he suddenly felt three fingers roughly stretching him, only using the little bit of saliva from the earlier activities as lubrication.

“Hmmm? Been a while since you’ve been _fucked_?” Ianto’s jealousy seeped into his voice.

“Is… God Ianto seriously; _slow down_.” Jack tried to get those fingers to stop punching his prostate. The pleasure mixed overwhelmingly with the burning sensation of the dry penetration. But Ianto kept going as he insistently milked the truth out of Jack.

“Is… eight years a long time?” Jack finally forced himself to focus enough to blurt out. It made Ianto freeze. The fingers slid out of Jack all at once, leaving the Captain both relieved and wanting all at once.

“It’s… You haven’t been with anyone?” Ianto was utterly dumbfounded. They were face to face now; Jack sat up so he could talk with his lover.

“No one that meant anything, Ianto. I swear. And… I haven’t let anyone _make love_ to me since… well, since _you_.”

“You waited for me?”

“Well, I’ll be honest; I didn’t know what I was really waiting for, but yes. I knew that sex wouldn’t mean anything to me anymore unless I was in love. And I’m in love with _you_ , Ianto.”

The young Welshman’s eyes prickled a little upon hearing Jack’s confession, but he was soon kissed senseless in order to forget about the tears; to forget about everything but how much love and desire there was between them.

Ianto used lube this time, for which Jack was grateful. Because that cock was fucking huge. And Ianto sure knew how to use it.

They made love for hours. Jack whispered and moaned sweet accolades and promises to Ianto while they took turns spending themselves inside each other. Jack lost count of how many times they climaxed; he was too full of bliss to remember; each time felt better than the last and they kept going until it was well into the night, and nearing morning yet again.

 

They got a little tired. Alright, well, they became more than a little tired. Ianto was fucking exhausted by the time Jack was through with him. Ianto kept count; he _always_ kept count. Jack had come five times in the last ten hours; and he had come four times. It was pure heaven… but that word made Ianto frown a bit at the thought: Heaven; it didn’t exist. At least not for him. There was nothing….

“You alright?” Jack noticed the frown.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.” Ianto sighed as he settled his head against Jack’s chest to listen to his soothingly rhythmical heartbeat. “I love you…” He said quietly as he was already slipping into sleep.

Jack didn’t want to fall asleep; he was deathly afraid that this might all somehow end if he were to.

“I love you too, Ianto Jones.”

Jack watched as Ianto’s chest rose and fell, and he could tell when the last muscle had relaxed and Ianto was officially asleep. He knew everything about Ianto; every inch of that young man’s body and how he reacted to being kissed and licked in each and every one of those places. And yet there was still a fascination with this man; like there was still some great mystery to solve; like there were more layers to him that even he may never get to uncover. He loved that about Ianto. It made him very, very special.

 

For the first time in almost a decade, Jack felt at peace; he felt happy. For the first time in so long, he no longer felt alone.

 

Jack wished it could last forever. But he knew it could not. Provided that Ianto didn’t die a Torchwood death, he would likely age just as any human normally would. He would probably live for another fifty or sixty years, and then he would die. And then Jack would be alone again.

And there was Adam. If Jack had learned anything while in Torchwood, it was that things this good didn’t come around without a catch. And he had no idea what Adam had in store for him, or Ianto, or even Torchwood. But it probably wasn’t good.

In all likelihood, Jack knew, tomorrow was going to be hell.


	12. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack starts to realize the side effects of Ianto's existence.  
> Gwen discovers what Adam wants.

“So all of that really happened?” Ianto asked the precise question that Jack was thinking over and over again all morning. But he was talking about something else entirely; instead of questioning the reality of everything that happened the night before, Ianto was referring to all the crazy stories Jack told over breakfast at a café attached to the hotel.

“Swear on a stack of holy books. It’s all true.”

“I really missed out. Being dead is rather boring compared to all that.”

“Well I’m just glad you’re here now.” Jack was sitting close to Ianto, and his hand stroked up and down the Welshman’s cheek lovingly.

They were sitting at a small round table and Jack’s chair was not even eight inches from Ianto’s. Despite the occasional odd stare from people, no one really cared about the obvious signs of affection that he and Ianto laid on thick while eating breakfast. Normally, before Ianto’s death, they would have been slightly more reserved in such a public place. But they were hardly in the frame of mind to abide by social convention; Jack and Ianto were smitten lovers and they didn’t give a damn about what other people might think or say.

“I… I have something I have to tell you, Jack.” Ianto seemed a little apprehensive, and it made Jack’s brow crease with concern.

“What is it?”

“It… kind of seems silly. I guess I should just be happy that I’m alive, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Jack was really getting concerned now.

“Jack I…” Ianto’s voice cut off for a second, and he seemed as though he might choke up. “I can’t _remember_ anything.”

“What?”

“I mean… I can _sort of_ remember things. But they’re not… They’re not like memories have ever been for me in the past. It’s… I guess it’s like when I’ve read a book; I remember the content, and perhaps feel emotions by placing myself in the character’s shoes vicariously, but they’re not… my own memories. They’re not personal to me; I feel like I haven’t lived my own life; the life I’m remembering.”

Jack felt like he’d been punched in the gut. This was all because of him. By bringing Ianto back, he took away his identity; all his personal memories.

“So… your mom? Your dad?”

“I know who they are, and what they look like, but I hardly remember anything about them; or my childhood. I can’t remember anything about growing up or where I went to school…” Ianto was officially overwhelmed at this point, and Jack could tell. He leaned in close and wrapped his arm around his lover protectively and comfortingly. Ianto accepted the embrace and rested his head against Jack’s.

“Let’s go home.” Jack said after a little while. “We can talk more about it there, okay?”

“Okay.” Ianto’s voice was still shaky, but he seemed to have calmed down a little bit.

 

At the Hub, which was currently the closest thing to a real home either of them had, Jack brought Ianto to his new office.

“Well at least there isn’t any pink.” Ianto said with a bittersweet tone. The shared sentiment made Jack smile. “It looks a lot like the last office, though I noticed the _lock_ on the door handle.”

“Gwen’s a fast learner.”

They shared a small laugh, recalling that _one time_ …

“You _do_ remember that?” Jack double checked.

“Yes, in… graphic detail.” Ianto smiled that perfect half-blushing smile. It went away too quickly, giving way to a frown. “But it’s confusing… it’s almost as if it’s _your_ memory, Jack; it’s like a story told from your perspective, not mine. I can remember everything we’ve ever done together; you and me. Other than that… my memories are just facts; little bits and pieces of information with no emotion tied to them at all.”

Jack was solemn. He motioned for Ianto to take a seat on the desk, and he didn’t say anything until Ianto looked plenty comfortable sitting down.

“Ianto… I have to tell you something. It’s about how I brought you back. It’s complicated, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it myself, but it has to do with an entity that only existed through memory. His name is Adam. He’s a mischievous son-of-a-bitch who we wiped from our memory years ago, and we thought that was the end of his existence. But it wasn’t. He eventually hitchhiked on my memories of you; and once I remembered enough, he inserted himself into the memories I had of you. He told me, in a dream, that if I Retconned myself that I would forget you too, not just him. And… Obviously, I couldn’t just forget you, Ianto. You’re…”

 _The love of my life? The best thing that has ever happened to me? The only person keeping my humanity intact?_ Jack really didn’t know how to put it to words without sounding frightfully cliché or cheesy.

“You’re really important to me.” He settled for that. For now. "And I think your memories are really _my_ memories and knowledge of you. It's like the only things that you remember are things that I remember and already know about you.

"So I exist out of _your_ mind? Only Your memories?"

"Yes, essentially."

"Well..." Ianto got a little bit of cheeky grin on his face. "It's a real good thing that you know me implicitly, eh? I might be missing some bits otherwise..."

Jack gave a small laugh at that. "Yes I am very glad to see that my memory served me well."

They drew close for a kiss. But Ianto's face seemed to fall more and more solemn the longer the kiss went on. Jack pulled away and looked at his lover, scanning him over to see if he could deduce what was wrong.

"Something wrong?"

"No. I'm just... thinking."

"I'm sorry." Jack didn't really know what exactly he was apologizing for. Everything really; Ianto's loss of memory, his heritage and roots; all of it was gone, and all he knew now was his relationship with Jack, and his job with Torchwood.

"I guess I should be the one who's sorry, Jack. I know I used to make such good coffee, but I honestly don't remember how."

Jack thought about feigning a broken heart over the news,but he knew that Ianto was in a delicate place right now; no place for joking at the moment. "It's alright, Ianto. Even if I never drink another cup of coffee as long as I live, I'll still be the happiest man alive."

"That's good. But I'll try to learn how to do it again. That is at least something I _can_ do. If I can't remember things, at least I can make new memories, right?"

"Right." Jack gave his lover a quick kiss for assurance.

“So this… Adam?” Ianto changed the subject. "He’s the reason I’m here? He doesn’t sound all that bad I guess…?”

“He manipulated me into remembering him, so he could exist. He used you as leverage. He knew I could never erase memories of you.”

“Oh.” Ianto nodded in understanding. “I guess this is a new one, eh? Back from the dead, due to a memory-based entity?”

“Well as far as resurrections go, yours is by far the sexiest.” Jack smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little.

They were about to kiss, when Jack heard the distinct sound of the Hub door rolling open (yes, Gwen reinstalled the gear door.)

“Jack?” Gwen sounded alarmed; again. This was probably not good.

Jack planted a quick kiss on Ianto’s lips before they both headed to the main room to see what Gwen was on about.

“Oi, _lovebirds_ ,” Gwen greeted in her usual spunky fashion, though her brow was furrowed with worry.  
“Did you see the news this morning?” She didn’t wait for an answer once she realized just what she was asking. Of course they didn’t see the news….

She pulled out her phone and tapped a few things on the screen before turning it so Ianto and Jack could see just what she was so concerned about.

“I got a notice this morning from our censoring software; some bloke is on the news, talking about us!”

The phone played a news video clip. Jack immediately recognized the man on the screen as Adam. He was in a suit. It looked so unfitting for a man of his short stature and informal features to be wearing a suit, and Jack almost laughed at the sight of it.

The digital banner on the bottom of the screen read, “ _Adam Lange, new leader of Anti Organized Crime Task Force, lists ‘Torchwood’ as top priority threat._ ”

“Many of you don’t know about them, but they’ve been always been here…” Adam spoke a little too solemnly, and again it almost made Jack laugh. “They’ve been creeping among the shadows, creating chaos and unleashing all manner of inhuman terrors on our great city of Cardiff. The time has come to bring an end to them, and all of their allies.”

Adam then looked directly into the camera, and Jack knew it was a gaze meant specifically for him.  

“Time has run out for Torchwood.”


End file.
